Neither Truth Nor Dare
by BlunderbussFishstickz
Summary: Vaguely set somewhere between DBZ and GT. Essentially just a PWP, wrapped in a very transparent game of Truth or Dare to try to dress it up as something more. But it's mostly just lemon. One shot.


** A/N: Ok, whilst dabbling in my version of the standard "Three Year Fic" that is seemingly a rite of passage for individuals wishing to borrow the creations of one Akira Toriyama (that would be the disclaimer. He's the one who owns Vegeta, Bulma, and the others who appear here. I'm only playing in his sandbox), I went outside for a cigarette. As I was standing on my back step, a strange little blonde plot bunny with a familiar glowing aura of power went hopping by. It mumbled something, which I chose to interpret as "Super Saiyan masturbation!fic, please?" although I'm not entirely sure it wasn't just stating the time of day in regard to whether it would be able to make an important date. It turned into this: a mild dose of humor/crack with a minute amount of thoughtfulness and reflection, only transparently setting it apart from any other standard smut. Because in the end, it's just V/B PWP. **

"Vegeta's turn!" Bulma announced, yelling much louder than necessary. The wine had made her tipsy, Vegeta noted sourly, swirling the contents of his own glass as he considered just how much wine a Saiyan would have to drink in order to become drunk as quickly as these weak earthlings. "Truth or dare!" Vegeta winced, grumbling, "I'm right here, woman. Stop shouting. And I'm not playing this ridiculous game. I despise the way you're so casually airing the intimate details of our private life as it is, and will not participate." His typical response drew a roar of laughter from everyone at the table.

"I'll go again! Truth this time," Goku said with a grin. When Mr. and Mrs. Briefs had retired for the evening, Bulma and Chi-Chi had conspired to combine the gossipy girl talk they had grown accustomed to over the years with some lighthearted husband teasing. Goku, who initially had never even heard of the concept of "truth or dare," took to it in the same head-on nature he was known for, unashamed of revealing any truth or unafraid of any dare. Vegeta, as predicted, sulked morosely in the corner.

"Hmph, this better be good, Kakarot. I never want to see you drink another condiment cocktail again," Vegeta said under his breath. "We haven't recovered from the trauma of watching that." On his last turn, Goku had downed a combination of ketchup, mayonnaise, Worcestershire sauce, horseradish, A1, six different kinds of salad dressing, olive oil, Tabasco, three different BBQ sauces, and every variety of mustard available.

"If you're not going to play, keep your comments to yourself!" Chi-Chi yelled, voice also unnecessarily loud. She poured herself another glass of wine, staring intently at Goku.

"Sometimes when Chi-Chi is out..." Goku looked around the room, feigning embarrassment, "I like to go Super Saiyan while I'm jerking off!"

Both women erupted into fits of giggles. Vegeta pretended not to hear any of it. Goku leaned in dramatically as if he was whispering only to his old enemy, "you ever try it? It's really hard. I mean, I can sleep transformed into super Saiyan, but as soon as I get close to finishing, I go back to normal."

With a trademark snarl, Vegeta tossed his glass onto the table, smashing it and spilling the remaining wine. He stormed out of the room, much to the added amusement of the others.

"I don't think," Bulma panted between fits of laughter, "Vegeta has ever been able to come standing up, never mind transformed as Super Saiyan!"

"Hey, that's not so easy, either," Goku added. "His knees probably get really wobbly right before, uh, heh, Chi-Chi?" Goku stared at the hand on his thigh for a moment, before gazing into the mischievous smirk on his wife's face. He leaped up from the table, sweeping her up and slinging her over his shoulder. Bulma continued to laugh as Chi-Chi ordered her husband to put her down...only once they were home and in bed. The party broke up as Goku and Chi-Chi left, and Bulma sighed as she thought of her own grouchy husband, probably already asleep.

"I don't know why, even after all these years, he still resists having a good time," she muttered out loud to herself as she walked down the hallway. "As soon as other people are around, he's gets so gruff and prickly." Had she ever known him to be anything other than gruff and prickly, though? Aside from murderous, vicious, and evil, over which grumpy was certainly an improvement. "I've had far too much wine," Bulma realized. She often found herself waxing nostalgic about their relationship after too much wine. Several years of post-Buu peace hadn't necessarily changed Vegeta's exterior, the superficial image he allowed the people he would still never actually call his friends to see. He was still one of the strongest men on the planet, terrifying to any future potential boyfriends Bra might bring home, never apologetic or open about anything. After spending so much time with him, whatever subtle bits of his personality had changed had been minor and taken place over so much time, that she couldn't pinpoint exactly what she meant. And in a similar way, she had changed as well. While she had always mocked his prudish grumpiness in front of others, Bulma considered the way in which she felt slightly remorseful for making him so uncomfortable. She wondered if that sense had always been there, or maybe it was also just the wine.

Bulma closed their bedroom door behind her, undressed in the dark and slid into bed beside her husband. Vegeta lay on his side, facing away from her. His soft snoring indicated he was actually asleep, and not just pretending to be. Bulma pressed her body close against his back, snaking her arm around his waist. Once he began to stir, she flattened her palm against his abdomen, suggestively running her fingers just below the waistband of his sweatpants.

"This better not be about that fool and his Super Saiyan perversions," Vegeta growled, voice already sounding groggy. "No, I," Bulma paused to nibble his ear. She traced her palm along his flank, touching him the way she knew he liked to be touched. The low, rumbling sound Vegeta made, she knew, was him trying to suppress a shudder. "Want to apologize. For tonight." Bulma brought her hand up to rest on his shoulder, gently kissing the back of his neck. For good measure, she traced a finger down his spine, once again dipping underneath his waistband and tugging. Vegeta lazily shifted, and Bulma pulled away as he rolled onto his back.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked, although at this point it seemed fairly clear. She was naked, poised over his lap. Vegeta folded his arms underneath his head, and watched as his wife feathered kisses down the middle of his chest and belly, teasingly stroking her fingers against his sides before coming to rest on his hips.

"Nothing involving these pants, although maybe," then as a wicked grin flashed across her face, Bulma pressed her palm firmly over his crotch. Vegeta grunted, involuntarily arching into her hand. Bulma leaned in, replacing her hand with her mouth. She pressed her lips against the bulge indicating Vegeta's already obvious erection, breathing hot air against the fabric as she went. She reversed directions, playfully nuzzling against his hips.

Vegeta brought one arm to his side, fist clenched in frustration. "I thought you wanted to apologize, not torment me," he said thickly.

"Well," was all Bulma said. There was no need for further discussion; that was never how they communicated anyway. She pulled Vegeta's sweats down to his knees, deftly positioning herself as he kicked them the rest of the way off. Bulma hummed in amusement at the way Vegeta held back a moan when she slipped him into her mouth. The vibrations sent waves of pleasure through the Saiyan's body, and Vegeta exhaled sharply. Bulma stroked his inner thigh, enjoying the way his cock twitched when she drew nearer to it. She bobbed rhythmically for several moments, listening to the way his breath grew ragged. Her tongue swirled carefully across the head, focusing on the sensitive underside. Bulma withdrew, lapping pre-cum in broad strokes while she massaged Vegeta's balls. The hand at his side, still formed a fist, now twisted the sheets as he neared his climax. Ordinarily, she wouldn't bring him this far to the edge without requiring some reciprocity or at least knowing beforehand that he would be good for a round two. Vegeta's heavy-lidded, unblinking gaze as he watched his wife go down on him indicated that tonight he probably wouldn't be.

Vegeta started to squirm, groaning a string of incoherent sounds through gritted teeth as he lost control. Bulma seamlessly transitioned between tongue and thumb, index finger working almost as delicately as she nipped roughly at his inner thighs. Vegeta exploded in a single, powerful climax. Bulma watched as his body tensed up, abdomen contracting as his toes curled, head thrown back as the intensity of his orgasm ripped through him.

Bulma allowed Vegeta to recover while she procured a clean top sheet for their bed. Climbing back under the blankets, Bulma draped an arm across Vegeta's chest, not verbally asking if her apology was accepted. He grunted once and didn't pull away, which she preferred to believe meant 'yes'.


End file.
